


The Blizzard in the Night

by Autumn_Llleaves



Series: The Cloak of Snow [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Romantic Fluff, Side Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-22 21:50:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17067779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autumn_Llleaves/pseuds/Autumn_Llleaves
Summary: Side-story to "The Cloak of Snow". On their way to Westwatch-by-the-Bridge, the joint Lannister-Stark forces get caught in a fierce blizzard, and Addam visits Dacey to see if she needs some warming up.Spoilers for "The Cloak"’s chapter 31 and beyond.





	The Blizzard in the Night

Their first day of marching was over, and already Dacey could hardly see Winterfell. With the thick clouds covering the sky, it was dark even in the few hours of supposed daylight, and closer to the evening, gusts of wind began to blow. It was a sure sign that this winter was much crueler than the ones Dacey had lived through before: usually, when there was snow, the frost was lighter, but now, it was the snow, the wind and the frost combined. Even though she was used to the terrible storms of Bear Island, she trembled and pretty much forced herself to move.

They planned to meet with men of the Night's Watch further to the north – the black brothers had a lot of spare warm clothing, saved from the times when the Watch had been large and powerful. In the cold weather of the far north, it was preserved wonderfully. 

For now, though... Dacey realized she was only going on so that these obnoxious westermen wouldn't get the better of her.

"We'll have to stop," Mother, who was leading the group, called to her. "We'll hardly get far in that darkness and that wind."

The girl breathed a small sigh of relief. If Maege Mormont, the fiercest warrior on Bear Island, was saying they had no other choice, then there was no shame in being cold and exhausted anymore.

Actually stopping, however, was the easiest part. Setting the tents, when the wind wasn't getting any weaker, was another matter. Dacey struggled with her tent for almost an hour and a half, and it collapsed several times when it had looked almost ready.

"Need any help?" Addam Marbrand called out to her. Hewas finished with his tent in less than an hour.

" _No_ , thank you!" she snapped.  _Certainly not from him_! She bit her lip, recalling how he kissed her back in Winterfell, and they were discovered by Mother, and His Grace, and the Old Lion, and now  _everyone_ knew... The pole for the tent slipped from her hands again.

The soldiers lit several fires outside the tents and crowded around them. By the time Dacey's tent was finally done with, there was no place for her close enough to the fire. She knew that if she asked, they'd give her place, especially the southerners, who were still shocked at  _ladies_ going with them to fight the ironborn. But that was just the thing: Dacey definitely wasn't going to be treated like a southern lady, not even for the warmest fire around.

She shrugged, went back to her tent, wrapped herself up in all the furs she had with her and tried to ignore her freezing nose.

There was also a possibility of going to Mother, but it would be embarrassing as well. Mother wouldn't like her daughter and heir to show such weakness. After all, such weather was... well, not everyday, exactly... but not so uncommon on Bear Island.

Footsteps sounded from outside.

"Dacey?"

She pushed most of her furs away at once as she heard his voice, before Addam even poked his head inside the tent.

"Addam," she said, trying to sound casual. "I thought you were at one of the fires."

"Oh, yes, but I decided to check on you," he stepped closer. "If you don't mind, of course?"

His gallantry was the worst part of it all. Oh, if he had been like many other men, who barely cared whether the woman's answer was yes, Dacey would have... well, she would never have let him get this close to her. But he had kept away for a month after she first refused him, and then it was her who made the next move. Even now, when  _Mother_ had seen them kissing and given her approval (if not quite an eager one), Addam was still asking Dacey's permission for every step of their... relationship. Dacey felt her irritation with the blizzard and the southerners melt away.

"Not at all. It's a bit boring, after all, making a camp in such a snowstorm," she said, and he sat by her side:

"Awfully boring. You can't even properly talk outside – all they are doing now is making sure this damn wind doesn't blow off the fires. No jokes, no songs, no drinking games, to say nothing of sparring," he winked at her, reminding her of their own training fights. Dacey couldn't let this teasing continue one-sidedly:

"For a southerner like you, it must also be slightly cold, right?"

Addam laughed:

“Guilty as charged, mighty lady of ice. Sometimes I felt I might freeze solid."

"There is, in the end, something in the North you  _can't_ handle!" Dacey smirked triumphantly and gave him a light slap on the shoulders. He slapped her back:

"But let me point out that it was your mother who called it a day."

"She took pity on your lot, couldn't you see?"

"Oh, how silly of me! I must be so untrained in the Northern dialect.  _Fuck this snow_ and  _blasted cold_ is therefore translated as  _we are warm and happy_. I personally heard it from Mormont soldiers, darling."

Dacey chuckled:

"All right, you must allow that it has been the longest summer in memory. Our men aren't as used to the cold as they should be."

"Fine, then my language skills aren't as hopeless as I feared," he flashed her a smile. His glance fell on the fur coats lying by her side, and he stroked the neck-pieces thoughtfully. "Oh. Looks like you aren't so used to the cold either. Do you maybe need to get… a bit warmer?” Addam lowered his voice, at the same time letting his cape, as if by accident, slip off his shoulders. He edged towards her and took her hand in his, slowly caressing it with his thumb. As she didn’t protest, he raised it to his lips and softly kissed first the knuckles, then the fingers.

Dacey’s mouth went dry, and a heavy but not unpleasant feeling settled in her lower body – she had felt it before when they had kissed, but it was still rather strange for her. Every movement of Addam’s lips over her skin seemed to increase it, and when his teeth gently scraped her index finger, she felt as if a bolt of lightning shot right through her.

Addam must have sensed it, because he swiftly let go of her hand and claimed her lips in a fierce kiss. Her head spinning, Dacey responded eagerly, and that weird ache in her belly grew so acute that she groaned, enjoying it and wishing to ease that ache at the same time.

“Dacey, my lovely warrior,” Addam whispered feverishly, moving down to her neck, his hands searching for the hem of her shirt. She knew that if they went on like this, he will go all the way, and take her maidenhead, and?..

“Please, wait!” she cried out. “Addam, I… I don’t feel now is the time.”

For a split second, she feared he wouldn’t stop at this point, but he halted, then raised his head, gave her a slightly confused look and sat straight by her side again. She instantly felt colder, but still didn’t regret asking him to stop.

“What’s the matter, darling?” he asked, stroking her hair. “You were... you seemed quite excited for this.”

“Addam…” she swallowed. “I – I am a maiden.”

“You’re… _what_?” he looked genuinely amazed.

“What, you think no girl ever stays untouched for long?”

“No… forgive me, please, dearest. I mistook your devotion to Robb Stark…”

Dacey couldn't help but burst out laughing:

“His Grace? He’s twelve years younger! I used to rock him on my knee!”

They sat in silence for a while. Dacey huddled closer to Addam but not close enough for him to get the idea that she had changed her mind.

“I beg you, Addam, don’t get me wrong, you are charming, and witty, and many other things, but I don’t think we should progress beyond kisses just now.”

“Of course I understand, my darling. You don’t want your first time to be in the midst of snowy nowhere, on our way to fight pirates and save Lady Arya.”

“It’s not just that,” Dacey shook her head. “Well… I’m still not sure about it at all.”

“Dacey, I’ve told you back in Winterfell: you don’t interest me merely as a bedmate.”

“Oh, I believe that part! I am sure we’ll always stay friends, at least,” she blushed deeply, realizing what she was saying. If anyone had told her a few weeks ago that she’d nearly let the Lannisters’ best henchman in her bed and, even worse (physical attractiveness, granted, wasn’t limited to the northmen), admit to be his friend… “But how do I know you won’t go back to other girls after sleeping with me? People don’t change like this in less than two months, Addam. Sometimes I used to see you with a new girl every day.”

“I’ve never been with anyone since our first… training fight.”

“That’s because I rejected you,” Dacey pointed out. “The thrill of the chase, like during hunting, to tell tales afterwards. ‘Oh, you know, I’ve plucked Dacey Mormont’s flower! Remember, the one who hates westermen? That’s her!’”

Addam frowned:

“In case you haven’t noticed, Dacey, I _never_ give details about the ladies I’ve been with, much less brag about them. You might stop applying your northern prejudices left and right, especially to someone whom you claim to be interested in.”

Dacey was stunned: she had never seen him really angry except in the training-yard, and he had never been angry at _her_. As he got up and moved to leave, she caught his hand:

“Addam! Please, I’m sorry, so sorry! I didn’t think before I blurted it out, but I promise I’ll be careful from now on! I never meant to offend you… not now!”

He paused for a while before he spoke and turned to her:

“I shouldn’t have flared up like this,” he admitted. “You hardly know me, and you’re not of the easily trusting sort. Besides, I know that far too many bastards do act that way with women…”

He sighed:

“Do _you_ want me to go now?”

“No… I mean, I would just like us to sit… and… and… talk… and it _is_ warmer when there are two of us…”

“Now, sweetest, don’t be so vague. What happened to the fearsome Dacey Mormont from the battlefields?” he chuckled and sat down again.

“Don’t call me _sweetest_ ,” murmured Dacey. “It’s way too sugary for me.”

“What should I call you, then? _Dear_ and _darling_ sound nice but a bit repetitive.”

“We’ll stick with them for now,” Dacey felt awkward with this talk. She had never liked the idea of thinking up endearing nicknames. One day she heard a peasant couple calling each other “bunny” and “pumpkin” and nearly got sick from such sappiness. “Maybe – oh, Addam, could you tell me about Ashemark?”

She amazed herself with that question and the genuine interest in her own voice – it wasn’t just a hurried idea to change the subject. Earlier she used to be interested in the Westerlands only as much as it was necessary for King Robb’s battle plans, and after the truce she thought she’d go back to ignoring everything to the south of the Neck. Why did she now, all of a sudden, want to learn about the West?

The knight, meanwhile, smiled dreamily and put his hand over hers:

“Oh, Dacey, you have no idea how I miss it. It’s such a wonderful place. Imagine: the endless high hills, nothing like your plains around here, with all the winds coming from the sea, and a dark carstone castle, so stable and strong, rising among them. The highest tower is almost as high as the walls of Winterfell. We call it the Lighthouse Tower – at nighttime, it’s like a lighthouse on land; we’ve got many torches in the windows and on the walls. _Burning Bright_ , true to our words. The innermost wooden walls of the keep are said to have been built by the First Men, and we make a point of never tearing them down, so inside it always smells so sweetly of wood and gum…”

Dacey nestled her head on his shoulder, feeling his thick hair against her cheek and forehead. She pictured that faraway castle, with welcoming lights in the windows, and thought that it would be so nice to visit the place when the war was over…

…Addam smiled as he heard Dacey’s steady breathing: the young woman had probably dozed off in the middle of the tale, if not earlier. He carefully laid her onto her makeshift bed.

“I don’t want you to leave,” she mumbled, half-asleep, and caught and held his arm. “It's so warm… I don't want to freeze again...”

She probably wouldn’t have asked it like this if she had been fully awake. She still took him for a pig who treated ladies like things to use and throw away.

“Don’t worry, Dacey,” he whispered. “I will not hurt you.”

Quietly taking off his boots, he lay down near her: close enough to keep her warm, but far enough not to disturb her.

…Dacey's slumber faded as she became conscious of someone else's presence in the tent.

"Addam?" she gasped, as she turned around.

"You begged me to stay, Dacey," he said groggily, half-opening his eyes.

"Did we... um... er... well..." as her eyes became accustomed to the darkness again, she noted, to her relief, that both of them were fully dressed.

"Dacey, you asked me to stay because you didn't want to get cold, not because you wanted the  _um er well_ part," he said softly. "I assure you I can tell the difference."

"Sorry," she murmured. "Isn't it... er... uncomfortable for you, just sleeping... uh, next to me?"

"My dear, do you suppose I wouldn't be thinking of you... in detail... anyway in my own tent? As for your question, if a Northerner like you could put her urges under control, a Marbrand of Ashemark certainly can."

Dacey wanted to think up some suitable retort, but her eyes seemed to close by themselves, putting out the light in her brain as well, so all she could think of was how lulling the sound of wind outside was and how nice the furs felt. She fell asleep again even before Addam planted a light kiss on her nose and moved back away.

She dreamed of him. In detail.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates it tomorrow! 
> 
> (I celebrate it on the 7th of January, per the Julian calendar).


End file.
